Category Archives: lawr

Funny: Crazy Keyboards

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It is crazy draft season in the Fantasy Baseball world, which I guess my mates and I have been preoccupied with, meaning less rock’n’roll verbiage, I am sorry to say.

I had been thinking about a handful of songs to post about, but this morning I was getting my teeth cleaned and some lovely early 20th Century English classical music–a la Ralph Vaughn-Williams–came on. It was pretty soothing, but was followed by some pretty frantic piano concertos by Chopin.

Julie, who was cleaning my choppers, noted the change was not so gentle, but when I think of classical pianists, my brain goes elsewhere.

I am sure that though my parents did drag me to to the symphony and opera way too early (I was five my first symphony) my first real conscious memory of classical music comes from the great early Looney Tunes/Merrie Melodies that often employed great classical pieces when telling a story.

However, the first such images that popped into my aging head were from films, first, out of the great Robert Zemeckis’ film Who Framed Roger Rabbit? which somehow manages to merge animation with action, with film noir and said Looney Tunes.

The great late Bob Hoskins plays the shamus Eddie Valliant, who tries to unravel the mystery of cartoon death and conspiracy, and his work takes the detective to the “Ink and Paint Club,” where this fantastic sequence takes place (it features one of the best one-liners ever with Daffy Duck making a definitive statement about working with the disabled).

But, the other piano craw that sticks is always Chico Marx. Groucho and Harpo were much more screen hogs than Chico, but Chico was a wicked punster and straight man, and like Harpo could play the harp, and Groucho the guitar and ukelele, Chico could tinkle the 88’s.

As in check this out. Brilliant. Funny. Wonderful.

 

 

Afternoon Snack: Love, “7 And 7 Is”

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I was streaming 60’s hits on Spotify as I drove to meet the family for dinner Friday evening, and the lovely Alone Again, Or by Love came willowing out of the speakers via my IPhone.

I was always a big Love fan, but the song that really did it for me was this one, 7 And 7 Is. I was 13 when the song was released in June of 1966 and along with I Fought the Law the song was easily my favorite of the summer (though You’re Gonna Miss Me by the 13th Floor Elevators ranks right there too).

Clearly, the wall of guitars and driving beat prove I was a rocker of the highest order, even back then. And, well, when I pulled the song up on YouTube this morning, 7 And 7 Is had lost none of its punch.

So, rather than chocolate eggs or a spiral ham for Easter, you can get a virtual slug in the chest from the late great Arthur Lee and his mates. And, tell me if the song doesn’t sound as good and advanced today as it did 50 years ago?

 

 

Afternoon Snack: The Yardbirds, “Shapes of Things”

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The Biletones are gearing up for summer with a new cluster of songs. Summer means a gig back at The Bistro in Hayward end of June, two dates in Madison, Wisconsin and then back to Frankie’s Blue Room in Naperville, Illinois late July/early August, and then a gig in at Raymond’s, in Cazadero, on the California Russian River.

One of the tunes to make the potential set list is the Yardbirds Heart Full of Soul which is great as my rhythm-playing lead singer mate Tom Nelson and I have been lobbying to do something by the band for at least five years.

It should not be necessary to acknowledge that the Yardbirds were the greatest guitar band ever: Just the fact that Jeff Beck, Eric Clapton, and Jimmy Page each held the main axe slot confirms this maxim.

I was sort of shocked when I ran a search on the site here and did not see any entries for the band, so I figured that needed to be corrected.

As it was, I made a Spotify playlist of the songs the band is working on, and after Heart Full of Soul finished, I decided to add The Yardbirds to my artist’s list, and started streaming them as I drove home from golf this morning.

On the way, I had to stop and run an errand, so I stuffed my IPhone–which was doing the streaming–into my pocket, and as I walked to the shop in the little circus, I could hear Still I’m Sad, ostensibly piping through the muzak system. “Such an odd coincidence,” I thought, and then when Shapes of Things came on, I decided whoever controlled the mall streaming was a fan and having a go at it.

Until I realized the music was emanating from my IPhone, which managed to get to “play” in my butt pocket.

So, ok, maybe there is no god, but no denying what a great band The Yardbirds were, and what a great cut Shapes of Things is.

Check it out and try to argue, but you will lose. Every time

 

 

Afternoon Snack: The Fresh & Onlys, “Waterfall”

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I was talking music during Tout Wars with Sirius/XM’s Kyle Elfrink, continuing a discussion we had begun a couple of weeks earlier at LABR.

As part of the process I sent vids of Jefferson Airplane and now Richard Thompson to Kyle, while he turned me onto this Northern California band, The Fresh & Onlys.

I am not so sure about the name, and I listened to the entire album, Play it Strange which is ok, but somewhat limited in sound scope in my opinion.

But, the bay area band does deliver on this tune which hearkens both The Flaming Groovies and the Bodeans to me.

Still, like this song a lot!

 

Night Music: Jefferson Airplane, “Volunteers”

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Since Paul Kantner passed away recently, I have been seriously into listening more and more and deeper and deeper into the catalog of his fantastic band.

Last weekend I was in Phoenix for LABR, and I wound up having a great discussion about music with Sirius/XM’s Kyle Elfrink.

We talked about a lot of stuff, however, Kyle asked me who my favorite bass player was and I said Jack Cassady. “Who,” asked Kyle? Kyle is in his early 30’s meaning he was born long after the Airplane split up, so he certainly can be forgiven this oversight which I promptly corrected by sending the link to The Other Side of This Life from Bless its Pointed Little Head.

However, while checking that video out I first stumbled onto this version of Volunteers the band played when inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Of course the retired Grace Slick was absent, but the rest of the band was there full force. I think what I love–what being an old guy who is proud to call #iambecomingabesimpson my very own hash tag–is the band core of Jorma Kaukonen, Marty Balin, and Cassady, look so neat and trim and nattily attired, yet they still kick the shit out of the song.

The bonus was I stumbled onto this fantastic interview with Kantner and Slick who reminisce about touring with The Doors and Jim Morrison, the first time both bands were in Europe. Its awesome.

 

 

Obit: Sir George Martin (1926-2016)

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There have already been a gazillion words written about Sir George Martin, musical guru and director who shaped the Beatles sound as well as what it would become.

Martin passed away this morning, at age 90, and since there will now be a gazillion more words, I will simply give you Golden Slumbers/Carry that Weight/The End, but, there is a slight caveat.

At LABR last weekend, while talking about the Beatles I learned my more than musical savvy mates Steve Gardner and Brian Walton had never noticed the three guitar wielding members of the Fab 4 trade licks at the end of The End.

Check it out. They trade fours, in the order of Harrison, McCartney, and Lennon.

Peace out Sir George.

 

Afternoon Snack: Cher/Nancy Sinatra, “Bang Bang”

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OK, so I am kind of into letting the Spotify do its thing. Mostly, on the 35-minute ride to the links, I have picked an artist and let the streaming rip, but this morning I was feeling nostalgic, so I dug around and found a 60’s hits stream.

There was a bunch of Dylan and Doors, and the Turtles along with the Isley Brothers and ultimately Stevie Wonder when Bang Bang, by Nancy Sinatra came on.

Let’s be clear. I hated These Boots Were Made for Walking (save the cool bass walkdown at the end) from the first time I heard it, as a 13-year old in 1966. I did not think Nancy Sinatra talented. Her singing wasn’t chanteuse-like a la Marlene Dietrich, nor was it pretty, a la Connie Francis (sorry, I had a mad crush on Connie as an eight-year old).

There was nothing that seemed remotely real about Sinatra the daughter (or son, who did redeem himself with a guest shot on Family Guy). And, for extra fun, remember that Frank Jr. was kidnapped out of Harrah’s in 1963, and that Dean Torrance–the Dean of Jan and Dean–was involved in that caper.

Nancy just seemed the epitome of plastic to me: worse, she was a moderate talent at best who was able to cash in on her father’s name and fame, for had she been Jane Doe from Everytown, Iowa, Nancy would never have had a hit record.

There is this quasi Django Rheinhardt gypsy-ish guitar in the background of Nancy’s version, but basically it just blows. I was happy for I Was Made to Love Her to kick on after Bang Bang was shot.

As a means of comparison, I did go out an find the Cher version, which is far more orchestrated than I remember. I do like Cher’s voice: at least I did back then and to a degree for Cher was like Neil Diamond in that I liked her early stuff, but as she got bigger and mainstream, her songs seemed cornier, and I was disinterested.

The thing I like about the Cher version is the clear Phil Spector/Sonny Bono influence. Also, at the time, I knew she was a shitload hotter than Nancy could ever hope to be. I mean, Nancy could only hope to attract the likes of Gene Simmons, Gregg Allman, or Richie Sambora.

 

Afternoon Snack: Eagles of Death Metal, “San Berdoo Sunburn”

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I cannot remember how long ago my mate Steve Gibson burned a disc of the Eagles of Death Metal for me. I know I played it, but the disc got lost in a pile, and the band never really made my playlist, though they were always hanging around the periphery of my listening and consciousness.

There was “Them Crooked Vultures,” which featured Josh Homme whom Steve  Moyer discovered several years back, and from then, it seemed everywhere I looked, Homme, the guitar player, was featured.

Still, though I thought of them kind of like James Joyce’s Ulysses, a book I know I should read someday, but a book I am keeping on my to do list so I always will have something to fall back on should I run out of things to do, you know?

Of course, over the past months, the band has had sad interactions with first the shootout in the Bacalat in Paris, and then oddly, the San Bernardino connection because of the song below, San Berdoo Bunburn.

Which is kind of extra sad as the more I get to know the band, the less they would want to be associated with much of anything aside from their irreverant–and funny–rock’n’roll chops and words.

This song came to me by way of my Biletones mate Bill Alberti, as we are now looking to put the tune on our setlist. (One thing is for sure: I now follow the Eagles on Spotify.)

I did look through several versions of the song, and though I prefer live, it is really hard to hear the words on the recordings on YouTube. So, I went with this video which peppers the screen with the occasional lyric.

Enjoy.

Here Comes the Weekend: Richard Thompson, “Beeswing”

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As I have been driving around in my car the last week I have been streaming Spotify, so far in a primitive fashion, by just selecting the artist I want to hear, and hitting shuffle.

Though you can scrounge through the Spotify archives and pick up just about anything imaginable (still looking for a copy of Voodoo, by Quicksilver Messenger Service, though) I do find that the shuffle is largely from a handful of albums. Some might be greatest hits, and some re-issues with added stuff, but the spectrum is not always as random as I would imagine.

Still, while streaming Richard Thompson, I got I Wanna See the Bright Lights in 1974 and then the lovely Beeswing from Mock Tudor two decades later.

Thompson is a tremendous wordsmith and song writer, but similarly, he is such a ridiculously imaginative and tasty guitar player that it is often hard to take it all in. Not that he is inaccessible, for Thompson is as fun a stage presence as there is.

So, Beeswing did coarse through my IPhone and into my car stereo and all the words really got me for the first time, and well, whew. So, saying the guitar playing is almost secondary, well, you judge and figure it out.

 

But, just in case you don’t know Thompson that well, here he is like, cranking it out on his Revering, on Elvis Costello’s late TV show with Elvis struggling to play rhythm guitar (maybe they even turned the volume off cos he looked so lost?).

I did search for Thompson doing this with bay area axe-man Henry Kaiser, whom I have twice seem play the song with the songwriter, but nada. So, let’s go with this.  Tell me you have seen a more relaxed or competent guy (let alone confident) jacking with his tuner as part of the solo in the middle of the song?

 

Night Music: Van Halen, “Oh Pretty Woman”

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I remember the first time I heard Roy Orbison’s great Oh Pretty Woman. It was one of those songs I did not need to hear twice before knowing it was killer, and the song has pretty much been a seminal tune over the 50-plus years since its release.

I never really thought about who would cover the song and why because the song was so much Orbison’s that “why bother?”

So, the last band I expected to infect me with a revisionist cover was Van Halen, who were still shy of their great 1984  disc.  But, starting with the fantastic clunky chunky metal effects pyrotechnics Eddie V coaxes in the Intruder prologue, to the great chorusy arpeggios that kick off the song, it nailed me at first listen and truth is, I now prefer the Van Halen’s version to Orbison’s.

This isn’t like Jimi Hendrix owning All Along the Watchtower, where Bob Dylan’s version is fine, but the song is clearly Hendrix’s now and forever. The Orbison version is still great, but Van Halen added a layer of rock and roll guts to the song that sort of works in concert with the emotions of love maybe lost and maybe found that should be part of the pain of life and relationship that rock and roll speaks to at its core.

I dunno. Maybe I am just getting sentimental as I move towards #iambecomingabesimpson, but fuck it. It is what it is.